


Gryffindor Wins!

by SweetSorcery



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Canon, Awkward Sexual Situations, First Time, Fluff, Humor, M/M, Misunderstanding, Slash, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-15
Updated: 2011-08-15
Packaged: 2017-10-22 15:33:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/239581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SweetSorcery/pseuds/SweetSorcery
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Draco finally has Harry Potter all worked out. Or should that be worked up? (Note: Harry and Draco are 16 in this.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gryffindor Wins!

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: All canon referred to within belongs to J.K. Rowling, Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books, Raincoast Books, Warner Bros. Inc., and possibly others. Non-canon bits were created for non-profit, non-infringement entertainment.
> 
> Archiving: Absolutely nowhere please, not even in translated form.
> 
> Author's Notes: This was written in August 2007.  
> (Please note that my explicit stories will be locked to registered users once they've been up for a bit.)

After spending the better part of six years attempting to sniff out every single one of Harry Potter's weaknesses, Draco Malfoy never would have expected to have his rival's defeat placed, quite literally, in his lap. But there it was, along with the quickly cooling remnants of a half-finished fever salve, dripping to the chair between his thighs. The salve would probably stain his fine wool trousers forever, but it was worth it. His face nearly split with a triumphant grin.

The Potions lesson had started out straightforward enough. Snape - sadist that he was - had directed Potter to team up with Draco, sending him on his way with a scowl and a warning that any potions mishap whatsoever would be entirely blamed on him. As if there had been any doubt.

Draco didn’t care if there should be a mishap. He could have mixed the salve in his sleep, and he knew that Snape was well aware of it. It was a perfect chance to trip Potter up and lose Gryffindor some of those house points currently putting them nearly level with Slytherin, and with only one more Quidditch match to go! So of course, he spent the lesson attempting to distract, insult, needle, anger and irritate Potter, and had even less success than usually. It was very infuriating indeed.

Lady Luck finally smiled upon him out of the pudgy face of Vincent Crabbe, which stuck out between Potter's shoulder and Draco's as he hissed to the latter, "Hey, Draco. Did you ask that Ravenclaw out last night like you were going to?"

Draco snorted when Potter jerked away from Crabbe's sugary breath and lack of appreciation for personal space. "I certainly did, Vince. You know if there's one thing I can't resist, it's green eyes."

There was a rude squirting noise just before armadillo bile shot in an arc towards Draco's face, but as he had amazingly quick reflexes, it kept going right past him, only to end up clinging to Pansy's heaving bosom. She shrieked, and Draco laughed out loud. Potter, whose fist had fallen on the tube and thus ejected the bile, jerked guiltily. Alas, in doing so, he knocked the back of his hand against their cauldron and flung that at Draco also.

Perhaps Draco's reflexes weren't that brilliant after all. But at least the slimy mixture was cool and non-corrosive, and actually kind of pleasant, even through the wool at his groin. He stared at Potter, about to launch into a stream of insults, when he found the blasted Gryffindor blinking at him like a confused owl. Blinking at him out of wide, very green eyes above very pink cheeks.

Draco closed his mouth, used his brain, and smirked. Vince didn't know it yet, but he'd be finding a very large box of chocolates on his bed later that day. Draco was still smirking when he leaned forward, amused to see the Gryffindor arch away from him. "You know, Potter, I suddenly find myself looking at you in a whole new light."

Potter's really rather fascinating green eyes narrowed. "I don't know what you're on about, Malfoy."

Draco's smirk widened.

"Potter!" Snape came flying across the room. "What have you done now, you imbecilic, irresponsible, idiotic, infuriating..."

Draco tuned him out in favour of watching Potter fumble with the remaining ingredients, pushing them away with shaky hands, as if he wasn't trusting himself with them. He watched and plotted, distracted only by Potter's inept attempt to retrieve the upturned cauldron from Draco's lap without touching the Slytherin. But Draco had scented blood and thrust his hips up ever so slightly, just as Potter reached under the rim of the cauldron. He let out a husky "Ooh! Careful with those fingers there," and cackled when Potter flushed bright red and plucked the cauldron away hurriedly.

Gryffindor lost 50 points. Draco silently awarded himself 100.

* * *

Draco's next chance at non-existent but much craved points came during History of Magic.

Most of the class was asleep. Granger was furiously making notes. And the remaining students were staring through Binns, numb with boredom.

Draco was actually quite alert, observing Potter at his desk a few feet away. He'd been observing him for various reasons for years, of course, but now he was looking at him rather like a cobra might assess a tasty potential nibble, hovering and dipping and sniffing out the best place to strike at its victim. The most vulnerable spot to attack... Draco smirked. His eyes had fallen on Potter's bent neck. The Gryffindor was attempting to make notes, and thanks to his appalling posture, that area of soft skin between collar and hair was completely exposed. Draco grinned, scribbled a short note on a piece of parchment, then crumpled it up and tossed it over Potter's shoulder.

Potter started, considered the ball of parchment for a minute, then flattened it out.

 _I want to nibble on the back of your neck until you're shivering all over._

Potter sat bolt upright, then frantically turned his head this way and that, until he met Draco's eyes. When the Slytherin wriggled his brows at him, then pushed his lips into a pout and blew a kiss towards him, Potter yelped.

The entire class woke up and stared at him while Binns continued to drone on, oblivious. Harry blushed furiously and looked down at the parchment. It had gone blank, much like his mind.

Draco awarded himself another 100 points.

* * *

It was almost a shame, Draco thought, that there were no lessons on the weekend. Then again, there was a Quidditch match, which meant he'd still get Potter, and thus another chance to thoroughly unsettle the Gryffindor. If he played his cards right, he might even make Potter fall off his broom.

The match swung back and forth like a lazy pendulum, slowed down by the glaring sunlight and heat-exhausted players. Slytherin and Gryffindor took turns in the lead, and just like every single time the two teams faced each other, it would all come down to the snitch. Really, Draco thought, while hovering a good 200 feet above the centre of the pitch, it would save a lot of time if they simply had him playing Potter and be done with it. He didn't see why anyone else was even involved.

Potter. Who was hovering a short distance away, squinting into the sun, desperate to spot the snitch first.

Draco almost laughed out loud - why didn't the idiot cast a tinting charm on his glasses? He raised his broom and flew towards Potter, slowing down when he got close to him. He looked Potter up and down, grinning, and parked himself right next to him with an elegant loop.

Potter's broom bucked like a wild horse as its flyer jumped. "Malfoy, what the hell are you trying to do?" he hissed.

"You know, Harry," Draco slurred languidly. "It's very unfair."

"What?" Potter muttered, annoyed and suspicious that Malfoy should call him Harry.

Draco heaved a dramatic sigh, looking his opponent up and down again, more slowly this time, slowly undressing him with his eyes right there, above the pitch, until Potter shifted awkwardly on his broom. "How is a man supposed to concentrate on spotting a snitch, when there you are..." He reached out towards Harry's broom, not quite touching it, delighted when Potter's eyes widened at the sight of Draco's gloved hand trembling an inch above the shaft.

"When I'm... what?" Potter stammered, forcing his eyes back up to meet Draco's. He was about to demand an explanation, when the Slytherin's next words and actions floored him.

"Making me all hot and bothered, silly." Draco sighed, his hand finally closing around Harry's broom handle. He groaned softly, as if the mere contact with Harry's broom was throwing him into fits of ecstasy. "You can't imagine the thoughts I have, seeing your thighs clenched around your broom like this, quivering with the effort. You just can't imagine." His voice was husky, and he gave Harry a long, intense look, before veering off and speeding away.

When Draco's hand closed around the snitch two minutes later, Harry was still trying to right himself; Draco's departure had left him dangling upside down in a rather undignified pose, wondering why he was harder than his bloody broom, and why his glasses were suddenly tinted.

The game went to Slytherin, and 200 private points to Draco Malfoy.

* * *

Draco was, as always, the last one in the Quidditch showers. After all, proper grooming and conditioning took longer than simply scraping off some sweat, snorting some water, and rushing off half-dressed. If asked, he would have guessed that Potter was the rushing off kind, so he was more than a little shocked to find himself facing the Gryffindor just as he was about to vacate the premises.

"What are you playing at, Malfoy?" Potter hissed, smelling distractingly clean and soapy.

Draco blinked. The thing with witty 'spur of the moment' comebacks was that he quite liked to have them lined up and ready for suitable occasions. However, he certainly hadn't expected Potter just then, so his mind was as vacant as a Weasley.

"Well?" Potter was just about in his face, green eyes blazing with annoyance. "You're either playing some sick game with me, or--" He smirked in a way that shouldn't be allowed to anyone not bearing the surname Malfoy. "You want to play _games_ with me."

Draco blinked again, though Potter's next words made him wonder whether he hadn't inadvertently fluttered his eyelashes.

"Yes, I thought so." Potter looked much too satisfied for there not to be a horrific misunderstanding going on, so when he tossed Draco's things to one side, gripped his waist with both hands, and his stupid, big green eyes came suddenly really close, Draco yelped.

"Bloody tease," Potter all but purred, and then his stupid mouth was just about swallowing Draco's, hands pulling the slim form forward hard as he started chewing on Draco's lips.

"Wha--? Mmm... no! Pottmph!!" Draco's world upended itself and crushed his head, leaving him dizzy and disoriented and with no choice but to cling to Potter's... When had the be-speckled git acquired those _shoulders_?

"Shut up," Potter said, but it sounded like an endearment. "You blasted, irritating distraction." With that, he forced his mouth on Draco's again, marginally more gently, and when Draco's lips relaxed against his to minimise the damage, he pressed his advantage and slipped his tongue into the moist pink space.

A groan travelled all the way up Draco's body and finally forced itself out of his mouth and into Potter's. "Was only... mmm..." Draco reached into thick strands of hair, gasping the occasional breath in and word out. "Taking... the piss."

Harry managed a snicker between kisses. "Another time, maybe."

Draco squeaked. But his squeak morphed into a pitiful mewl when Harry's hand was suddenly on the tented front of his trousers, squeezing. Hard. And Draco decided he liked it hard, and started pushing the other boy's T-Shirt up and over his head, not caring when Potter squawked indignantly a moment before the shirt, as well as his torn off glasses, hit the floor behind them.

"You nearly took my nose off, you git," Potter growled, but not entirely with annoyance. "Do that again!" Draco bit at his exposed neck for a second time, and Potter made more interesting noises. "Mmm, yes. That." A moment later, "Figures you'd be a vampire."

Draco heard himself giggling like a fool, but refused to care. "Are you going to do something else with that hand?" he demanded.

"Like this?" Potter asked, then laughed when Draco's head fell against the wall behind and his eyes rolled up and out of sight. Not having bothered with buttons and zips, he'd simply shoved his hand behind Draco's waistband and now had it wrapped around the still shower-damp cock, pulling at it from an awkward angle.

"Don’t break it off," Draco whined, but actually covered Harry's hand from outside his trousers and pushed it down even harder. "Shit, this hurts."

"Then take the damn things off," Harry ordered. He stood back and pointed his wand at Draco's midsection. "Before I do it this way."

"No!" Draco glared at him, which failed to look intimidating considering he was flushed pink and his hair stood up in all directions. He quickly undid his trousers and pushed them, and his underwear, down over his hips. Then he whimpered at the look on Potter's face, his eyes widening when Potter followed suit, exposing his own cock while not taking his eyes off Draco's. "Shit, you're hot." Draco bit his lip, but the words were already gone.

Potter snickered. "You're not bad yourself. Come here."

In a last ditch effort at making things difficult, Draco pouted. "No, you come here."

Potter shrugged, and was back on Draco in a moment, his mouth crushing Draco's and his hands on Draco's hips.

Their cocks bumped painfully, but after a bit of shifting and hissing, they were finally sliding against each other - both of them dribbling wetness which Harry used to wrap his hand around them both and start jerking.

Draco groaned, his right hand joining Harry's while the left clutched at Harry's hair. He leaned his forehead against the famous scar and looked down between them. "Fuck. Fuck. Fuuuuuck!"

"Getting ahead of things again," Harry panted. He tightened his hand, which was by then slippery and damp enough to make an obscene squishing noise around their cocks. He chuckled, but then he groaned, and his left hand was tightening on Draco's hip, and he was coming all over his hand and Draco's twitching cock and the inside of Draco's dropped pants on the floor.

Draco whimpered quietly, and then his mouth fell open and he was gasping, his hand stopped working, and he just held it under their spurting cocks and watched it get covered in spunk.

"God, Draco!" Harry moaned, tilting his face and catching Draco's mouth in another kiss while he was still coming down from his high. He barely felt Draco smearing come on his stomach and around his side as the other boy wrapped his arm around his waist, pulling himself against him. It was wet and squishy and completely perfect.

"Gryffindor wins!" Draco whispered, to Harry's confusion and amusement. At this rate, Draco thought, he would never, ever beat Potter at anything. Amazingly, he found he didn't care anymore.

 

THE END


End file.
